


Training

by Prentice



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bisexual Carol Danvers, Crushes, F/M, Finding something good after Endgame, Grief/Mourning, Mentor/Protégé, Not Beta Read, Older Woman/Younger Man, Power Imbalance, Romance, Training, questionable decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prentice/pseuds/Prentice
Summary: The kid’s younger than she expects the first time she sees him without his mask on.





	Training

**Author's Note:**

> Written for _#20 - Kissing_ on my Romance and Porn challenge list. 
> 
> Not a commission this time, just good fun on my part since I'm growing kind of attached to this pairing. Also, for clarity's sake, this takes place _several_ months after Endgame (spoilers!), with the immediate aftermath of the battle having passed but the universe at large still picking up the pieces. Meaning, people are still struggling with their grief/anger and others are having to step up to the plate while under immense pressure. Hence, Carol and Peter finding their way to each other.
> 
> This isn't meant to invalidate what they feel, just to explain it since that's not really the focus of this fic. Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> Edit (7/28/19): Please be aware that comments are currently being put on moderation as I've been receiving an influx of spam so don't worry if your comment doesn't immediately appear.

The kid’s younger than she expects the first time she sees him without his mask on. He’s all boyish features and a bright smile; excitement buzzing along his skin when he finally says hello her. It’s surprisingly charming, the way he can’t contain himself, hands fluttering at his sides as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

She solves the problem for him, fingers curling around his own so she can tug him forward – tug him _close_ – her lips brushing against his the way his had hers all those months ago. He’d still been a name behind a mask to her then; his hands shy and hesitant against her weight as she slammed him against the practice mats, fist raised in a mock punch she already knows he won’t even bother to block. It’s a habit she’s been trying to break him of, pulling his punches and lowering his defense when he knows the person he’s sparring with won’t really hurt him.

It’ll cost him his life one day if he keeps it up she knows. Has seen it more than once when out in the field; someone hesitating just a second too long because they fool themselves into thinking they’re safe. She won’t let that happen to him though, not if she can help it.

It’s one of the reasons why she’d agreed to train him in the beginning. He’d needed it more than most, especially with his enhanced strength. Being able to catch a car with his bare hands was all well and good, but it meant nothing if he couldn’t figure out what to do with it afterward, and so she spends months slamming him into the mats; pinning him in place with her powers and her skills because he needed to learn – needed to _understand_.

He can’t hesitate in combat. Can’t wait in battle. Can’t trust that someone will stop just because he has them down or thinks he knows them.

It’s too important – _he’s_ too important – and so she uses every advantage she has to teach him everything he needs to know now that his safety net is gone. Now that he feels – not alone but maybe lonely – without Tony Stark there to watch his six; the painful shadow of a great man hovering ever-present over his shoulder, informing his decisions as much as his path in life. Not to mention messing with his headspace as he tries to learn to pick up the pieces.

It isn’t easy, she knows.

She’s had her own brush with loss and grief and all the ugly emotions that come with it. Has had to pick up the pieces of her own life more than once and try to learn to move on. Try to learn how to _live_ , now that everything she knows is different.

Which is why, when the kiss happens, it catches her by surprise.

It shouldn’t.

She remembers what it’s like to be where he is right now. Remembers what it’s like to have someone step up for her as she has been for him, and how close and intimate it can become over time. How easy it is to develop feelings – develop _crushes_ – in these types of situations and she knows he’s no exception to that.

No one is, really, and so the first time he kisses her – his mask pulled carefully up over his nose, sweat glistening lightly on his bare skin – she doesn’t think too much of it. Not that it isn’t nice. It is, albeit a bit clumsy and off-kilter thanks to how unexpected it is; his lips sliding against hers so quickly she barely has time to register it before its already over.

All the same, it’s not her place to encourage him – or _discourage_ him, for that matter. Not right now, when rejection is the last thing he needs from her, much less anyone else. His emotions too raw and unstable for her to be able to really do anything other than be there while he grapples with his grief.

So, she does nothing – or as close to nothing as she can – afterward, her lips quirking in a faint smile as she steers him over to his side of the mat. Light teasing – so light it might not have even been there – drawing his focus back to the task at hand and away from the faint blush that she can see disappearing beneath his mask. It’s…

Sweet.

Endearing.

Maybe even a little bit flattering, considering the number of attractive people they both interact with on a daily basis, but she knows what this is, knows that she shouldn’t take it too seriously. That it’ll go away on its own if she just ignores it long enough.

Except…it doesn’t.

Not really.

Not with the way the kid keeps sneaking kisses in; his lips growing less and less clumsy against hers with every passing brush of his mouth. Every playful flick of his tongue. Every gentle touch of his against her skin.

It’s…

God, it’s almost maddening.

The way he keeps surprising her.

The way he keeps _teasing_ her almost; her stomach tightening more and more as he grows bolder and bolder with every kiss. It’s – she’s – god, she’s only human. Even with her powers. Even with her skills.

She’s _only_ human.

And he’s…something else.

Something sweet.

Something good.

Something – some _one_ – she’s having a harder and harder time resisting. Especially with how well they get along now, their friendly teasing banter lighting a fire in her stomach she can’t remember having since the last time she was in a relationship. Since the last time she was _in love_.

It’s a problem, she knows; a complication.

One that she tries to rationalize as she carves out a place for herself as one of the leaders of the New Avengers; her experience both in battle and the wider universe enough to propel her into the position without much sayso on her part.

Not that she’s alone in that position (thank god).

Colonel Rhodes and a handful of others have been forced to step up into the position as well; all of them putting their focus on being a stabilizing influence on a world still left reeling both from Thanos’s initial attack and subsequent defeat.

It’s hard; despite their best efforts, the world – the _universe_ –  is still in chaos. Large chunks of it still frightened and afraid that Thanos and his army might still come back. That everything that they’ve ever worked for might still be undone.

Which is why she stuck around. Why she doesn’t put up much of a fuss when she’s elected as one of the New Avengers leaders. Why she even puts up with Fury’s smug smirk when she tells him he still looks good in his ridiculous pirate eyepatch.

It’s also why she’s having trouble resisting Peter’s hungrier and hungrier kisses; her name whispered reverently against her lips in a hoarse sensual rasp. His mouth pulling into a playful smile every time he manages to land one. His intentions clear, no matter how much she pretends to ignore him.

Looking back, it’s almost inevitable when she finally gives in.

Her mouth opening beneath his own when he uses one of the moves she taught him to roll her off his back, nimble body suddenly crowding her against the ground as he sweeps his tongue into her mouth. It’s – good. S _o_ good.

Her body arching against his as he threads his fingers through her hair, gloved hands cradling her skull as she wraps her legs around his waist. The tell-tell bulge in his suit just enough to grind against as she rolls them over again, her hands bracing against his chest as she rides the motion of his body up and down, her spine bowing as they rub against each other through their uniforms.

It doesn’t go on for too long, for all that they both want it to; the wet aching heat between her legs throbbing as she works her hips hard against him.

She can’t let it.

The compound maintains a strict schedule for the training rooms, the number of Avengers and SHIELD agents growing exponentially since the battle with Thanos and the completion of the Accords. More of the public eager to be a part of the legacy that men like Tony Stark and Steve Rogers had left behind.

Even so, it goes on longer than it should.

Her hips circling down onto his once, twice, three times; a panting breathy groan escaping her lips when his hands settle on her waist, helping her to move as his body bucks up against hers. The motion entirely obscene as they bump and grind together, her fingers scratching against his suit as a whine breaks somewhere in the back of her throat. She’s close –   _god_ , she’s close.

She can feel it coiling inside her. The white-hot liquid heat throbbing and aching inside her core, stomach muscles tightening as her toes curl inside her boots. Breasts heaving inside her suit as she…she…

Forces herself to stop.

Body scrambling off Peter’s own as the polite chime of the compound’s computer system reminds them both that their training session is almost over. That likely another pair is waiting for the room. That someone could walk in on them, probably at any moment.

Cursing softly, she nearly whimpers as she stands, eyes sweeping over Peter’s body where it’s still sprawled across the mats, the obvious bulge in his suit – thicker and larger than she expects; her entire body throbbing with the thought of it _inside_ her – enough to make her eyes close, hands fisting at her sides against the urge to touch.

It’s harder than she expects to finally get back her composure, body thrumming hotly with want even as she shakily urges him to his feet. Throat oddly tight when he brushes a kiss against her cheek, still partially masked face flushing as he brushes up against her. It’s enough to make her want more, thighs squeezing together slightly as she licks her kiss-swollen lips and makes him promise to meet her later – preferably without his mask on – so they can finish what they started.

His wide delighted grin is just enough of an answer as the training room door opens, an oblivious pair of SHIELD trainees nodding to them politely. It’s maybe not what she expected when she started training him, but Carol finds she can’t bring herself to mind. Not when she can still feel his kisses warm against her skin, a phantom-touch she’s already planning to get more of, just as soon as she can get him out of his damn suit.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any linger tense or grammar issues as I don't currently have an editor.


End file.
